


nothing's gonna hurt me with my eyes shut

by monopolizers



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Intoxication, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:19:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3977770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monopolizers/pseuds/monopolizers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Louis' arms tightened around him, then loosened; his hand sneaked up under Niall's shirt. Niall tensed in caution. Louis' palm was small, warm, calloused. It felt better than it ought to.</i> After the BBMAs afterparty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing's gonna hurt me with my eyes shut

**Author's Note:**

> title from Years & Years' Eyes Shut.

Louis'd been all over him all night. Before the show, on the carpet, he'd hung back with Liam mostly, but occasionally he'd come over to Niall for a pat on the bum, a nipple tweak out of sight of the cameras, or even just for Niall to tell him how his hair looked. Niall thought he felt unmoored, maybe, without Zayn there as a quiet anchor. They all did, but Louis felt it hardest and tried to hide it the most. Harry was sick anyway, dreamy and probably thinking about Taylor--Liam was holding it all together as best he could--Louis was putting on a bright facade--and Niall was...handling it. They all were, as best they could.

Louis'd been all over him all night but now in the car it was more evident than ever. He'd practically manhandled Niall onto his lap. His chin was resting on Niall's shoulder, tickling Niall's ear as he spoke. 

"Niall," he said, and giggled. "Fuck! That was a good one, wasn't it? A real lads' night!" 

Niall wished he'd stop talking. He'd been in a good place at the party, in that drunken state where everything was just the right amount of fuzzy and it felt good to be close to other warm bodies, but the lights of the parking garage and now the movement of the car were making him nauseous and achey. He closed his eyes. "Yeah, Lou," he said. "Real lads' night." Louis' arms tightened around him, then loosened; his hand snuck up under Niall's shirt. Niall tensed in caution. Louis' palm was small, warm, calloused. It felt better than it ought to.

"Little Niall," Louis said, and giggled again. He was going to be so hungover in the morning. "You're right here with me, aren't you? A real lad." 

Niall didn't say anything. He was too focused on Louis' hand against his stomach as his fingers traced around and around in little circles. Suddenly Louis' hand slid up and he twisted Niall's nipple, hard. "Fuck!" Niall said. It actually hurt, not just because it was rougher than Louis usually was with him but also because he was angry with himself that he'd let his guard down for a moment. He punched Louis in the thigh. "You fucker," he said, trying to keep his voice level. It was easier than it would have been if he were sober. "Let me get off you. Your knees are so bony." 

Louis buried his face into Niall's neck and didn't answer, but Niall could feel his mouth turning down into a pout. He tried very hard to resist that. "Louis!" he said again, and this time Louis unwrapped his arms and shoved Niall over to the other side of the car.

"Fine," he said sulkily, and crossed his arms. "Bet Liam would have wanted to cuddle with me. Bet Zayn--" He cut himself off. A look of shock crossed his face for a brief moment before he went completely blank. Niall tensed his legs to keep himself from kicking the back of the driver's seat. 

"Louis," he said, gentling his voice. "C'mere." Louis looked away, his mouth set in an ugly slash. After a moment Niall turned away too. If this was how Louis wanted to end tonight--well. Fine.

But by the time they'd reached the hotel and got out of the car he seemed to have gotten over it. As they went through the back entrance and up the elevator, he was hanging on to Niall again; he was even more drunk than Niall had thought, apparently. His hands, small and warm, were on Niall's back, then on his chest, then his shoulders; by the time they reached their floor he was hanging off Niall the way he'd been in the car. As they stepped out of the elevator, Niall's shoe caught on the space between elevator and floor, and he stumbled forward and almost fell, not at all helped by the way Louis was grabbing at him.

When he managed to right himself, he looked up at Louis, whose drunken glee was tangible. "Oh _no_ , Niall," he said, with the slow cadence of the very drunk, wiggling his eyebrows, and Niall turned red and laughed, scratching at the back of his head.

"Funny, Louis," he said. "Where's your key card?" 

Louis shrugged. "I'd rather kip with you tonight," he said, slurring a bit, and tackled Niall around the waist. A bit of scuffling and Niall freed himself. The walk through the hotel had proven to him that he was a lot drunker than he'd felt in the car, though a bit less nauseous, and Louis' hands felt too good. He covered it with a smile. 

"No way, you bastard, you snore _and_ kick in your sleep," he said. "Gimme your card, I'll put you to bed since apparently you can't do it without your mum around to hold your hand." Louis stuck his tongue out at him, then made that weird muppet face, but he reached inside his pocket and handed Niall the right card. They walked down the hall together, carpet muffling their steps, until they reached Louis' room and Niall slid the card in.

Inside it was, of course, hushed and quiet. "Go brush your teeth and drink a bit of water," Niall said, "and I'll grab some clothes for you." 

"Don't want water," Louis said. He swallowed, and for a moment Niall thought Louis was going to be sick. 

"Are you going to vom?" he said. It came out flatter than he meant it to, trying to overcompensate for how irritated he was. 

"No," Louis said. He swayed in place for a moment.

"Go brush your teeth, Lou," Niall said again. "I'll have your clothes ready for you when you're out."

He could hear the water running as he rifled through Louis' suitcase; there was weed in there, a couple of pairs of black skinnies, and then he pulled out an old sweatshirt that felt strange for some reason. He held it for a moment, trying to figure out why it felt familiar and yet out of place with the rest of what Louis had packed. When Louis stumbled back out of the bathroom, stripping out of his clothes and sitting heavily on his bed, Niall turned to him.

"Is this yours?" he asked curiously. 

Louis didn't exactly freeze on seeing the sweater, but his face darkened a little. He didn't look like he wanted to answer. After a moment, he said, "It was Zayn's." 

Niall swallowed. He dropped it back in the suitcase and got up, intending to leave; Louis'd already burrowed himself under the covers, no need for a pair of trackies.

"Are you going?" 

Niall paused at the door. "Yeah, since you're--good, right?" 

"C'mere," Louis said. He stuck a hand out and patted the comforter next to him. "Gimme a cuddle."

This wasn't a good idea, Niall knew. Louis was sad and alone and thinking of Zayn. And Niall, too, was sad and alone and thinking of Zayn, but he was also thinking of Louis. He was thinking of that secret he'd carried around in the back of his mind for so long that sometimes he could almost forget it existed. The secret grief pressed into his heart the way flowers were pressed between the pages of books. 

"I'm tired, Louis," he said, voice light. Louis sat straight up in bed and turned the bedside lamp on.

"Come _here,_ " he said, and this time he was serious. Niall pulled off his skinnies and shoes and padded over to where Louis was and sat himself down on top of the comforter. "Lie down," Louis said. He lay down too, at the same time as Niall, and arranged himself until he and Niall were both lying on their sides, face to face. Without looking he reached back and turned off the light. Then it was dark, the room only lit by the Vegas skyline. Louis' face was in shadow. Niall closed his eyes. He didn't want to look. 

"Zayn used to do this for me," Louis said out of nowhere. His voice was very low. Niall held his breath. He didn't want to have this conversation but if Louis wanted to have it--

"What?" he said.

"All of this. What you did. He'd get me water and make me change." Louis' voice dropped even lower and Niall squeezed his eyes shut, straining to hear. "But he didn't leave after." 

Niall didn't say anything, just waited. He could hear his own breath in the silence. 

"He didn't leave after," Louis repeated, and reached out a hand. He set it on Niall's hip at first, and then under his shirt, tracing a line up his side. "He didn't leave," he said, one more time, almost under his breath. Then he leaned forward and kissed Niall on the mouth.

It was strange, Niall thought, that over the years, he'd tried to get rid of this inconvenient attraction to Louis by telling himself that Louis probably wasn't very good. At kissing, in bed, at pleasing people. He'd tried to tell himself that it didn't matter that it was never going to happen because it would probably have been terrible anyway. 

It was particularly strange and sad and awful because now that it was actually happening, it was better than anything he could have imagined. Louis still smelled of booze but his mouth tasted like the cinnamon toothpaste he liked. His lips were soft but his stubble was rough. His hand on Niall's side squeezed for a moment, tightened, then released. Then the kiss ended, and he moved back. 

Niall opened his eyes. They weren't wet, thank god, but he felt shaken. He desperately wanted to leave. "Did Zayn do that for you, too?" he whispered, as if he could somehow make it into a joke. 

Louis looked at him--no, not at him. At his mouth. "Yes," he whispered back, and Niall only managed not to throw Louis' hand off himself and leave through a great exertion of will. "He was my best mate." Niall hadn't slept with any of his best mates, but he didn't say so. "He took care of me. And he didn't leave."

Niall didn't say anything for a moment. Louis leaned forward again, kissed him. It was a slow, heated drag of mouths, and he squirmed forward until he was pressed against Niall from chest to knee. Niall wanted to cry. Instead he said, with barely a waver in his voice, "So you and Zayn..."

"Eleanor and I had an agreement," Louis said. He was speaking into Niall's neck. "That I could hook up with Zayn. And Zayn and Perrie had an agreement too, about me." He kissed Niall once, twice. The press of his mouth felt burning hot. "It was..." He paused for a moment. "He was my best mate," he said helplessly, as if that were the only way to explain any of it.

"Right," Niall said. His head was spinning. He desperately wished he hadn't come into Louis' room. The next time Louis moved forward to kiss him, he put a hand gently on his chest. "You don't want to do that, mate." Louis, thank god, acquiesced easily. He must have been more drunk than Niall thought. Guilt struck him, all of a sudden, along with a strange, piercing grief. "I'm gonna leave, Louis," he said gently. Louis grabbed his arm.

"You can't leave," he mumbled. He sounded half asleep already. "You _can't_ leave. Everyone always..." He trailed off. "Eleanor, then Zayn too... you all always leave. You can't leave me, Niall." He moved forward and for a terrifying moment Niall thought he was going to kiss him again. Instead he gently pressed his lips to Niall's pulse, then tucked his head between Niall's head and shoulder. His eyes drifted shut. Niall stared out at the skyline, neon bright and sharp. He wanted to sleep but he wanted to leave more. He waited ten minutes, twenty, as Louis' breathing evened out and he began to snore gently. Then, as slowly as he could, he disentangled himself from Louis and put his jeans back on. He closed the door very gently, and realized on the way out that he'd left his shoes in Louis' room. It didn't matter. In his own room he poured himself a glass of water. He sat down on the side of the bed for a moment, gripping large fistfuls of the comforter in his hands. If he'd known about Louis and Zayn...but it didn't matter. He breathed in, breathed out. He put his face in his hands for a moment, then undressed, got under the covers, and tried to fall asleep. Outside, the lights of the skyline were as harsh as ever, and he focused on the shadows they created until he drifted uneasily into dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me about this at [tumblr](http://hotgaydumbledore.tumblr.com/)? comments are very appreciated.


End file.
